


I'll Take Your Breath Away

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Ignoct through the years, M/M, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16064585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: “Noct, do you--”“Yes.”The answer is taken for exactly what it is - an invitation. Aplea. Though Noct’s tears still fall, there’s a certain relief even in the shadows of his eyes. Ignis watches them closely, entranced, as his fingers find the perfect hold. As they squeeze down around the soft skin of Noct’s throat, and as pleasure blossoms dark red across his face.





	I'll Take Your Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlecakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/gifts).



> For Tinyconfectionary (littlecakes) who deserves lots of love and appreciation and Ignoct breathplay smut *heart*
> 
> (Title and headers from ["Possession" by Sarah Mclachlan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucdnm8iU-5c) \- it's a very Ignoct song tbh)

_**And I'd be the one** _

_**to hold you down** _

_**kiss you so hard** _

 

"Highness…."

Ignis lets out a sigh. Not the sigh of a royal advisor constantly overworked, or a friend too often underappreciated, but of a man truly, utterly, and deeply in love.

The object of his affections is spread out beneath him, pale skin a sweet contrast to the dark leather of the expensive chaise. Noct is mostly naked, save for the boxers pulled down to his thighs and the sweet expression he wears as he gazes upward. Between white teeth, he worries his bottom lip, already deep red and slick from an evening of stolen kisses. His eyes, the most irresistible shade of blue Ignis has ever known, are half-lidded and dark with need.

A need, he realizes, too long neglected. Ignis tightens his grip around Noct’s cock in his fist, and watches in wonder as pleasure spreads across that beautiful face. The prince - _his_ prince - is perfect like this; vulnerable, secret, desperate. This is a side of himself he shows to no one else, and Ignis is determined to treasure this privilege he's received.

“Highness," he calls again, and Noct’s eyes sharpen in focus. "You're drifting. Is it too much?"

The prince shakes his head slowly. "Keep going, Specs."

A kiss to that smooth curve of throat. Noct tips his head back into the cushions, exposing himself for more _, more_ of Ignis’ lips, his teeth, his touch. Each puff of warm breath against his pulse has the prince shivering, shuddering, as his cock throbs in his advisor’s fist. Again and again until Ignis’ fingers are slippery with the pleasure of it all leaking steadily from the tip.

Yet it still isn’t enough.

“ _Iggy_ ….” Noct’s moan is breathless, pleading. But while his voice is what catches Ignis’ attention, it’s his eyes that hold it. “Your _hand_.”

_Ah, of course._ Misunderstanding, Ignis smiles as he begins to squeeze his fingers tighter around blazing hot flesh.

“N-no, _ah!”_ A flush colors every inch of Noct’s face, from his forehead to his neck as he once again tips his head back to give Ignis a better view. “H-here.”

_Oh?_ As if the prince’s pleading eyes aren’t explanation enough, the way his fingers tremble across his own throat speaks volumes. It’s obvious what he’s asking for, and yet….

Ignis feels his heart pound faster. Slowly, with caution, the hand that has until that moment been stroking soothing circles along the prince’s hip begins to trail further up his body. Over the soft curve of his belly and the pale skin of his chest. Past the collar bones Ignis has spent countless hours lavishing with kisses that night, until at last he reaches the base of Noct’s throat.

The prince’s breath hitches. In Ignis’ fist, his cock jolts with interest, in anticipation, and his bottom lip disappears back under his teeth.

The first squeeze is gentle, merely a test. Ignis’ fingers slot into place beneath the hard curve of Noct’s throat, fingers and thumb hovering just over the pulse points on either side. They press down gently, but the pressure is enough to have blue eyes widening with the rush. Noct parts his lips, looks up at Ignis in awe, in wonder - and breathless he begs for _more_.

Against Noctis’ thigh, Ignis’ own cock stirs with renewed interest, but he ignores its throbbing in favor of another test. He watches blue eyes carefully as he applies more strength. Sees them fog over as the prince’s breath is caught, trapped in his throat, panic mixing with the already rosey flush of his cheeks. _Exquisite_. His eyes roll up, his mouth drops open further, and beneath Ignis’ weight his body arches off the leather seats.

Uncurling his fingers once more, Ignis catches him. Kisses him faster than he can pull in a ragged breath, and strokes his cock to completion. When at last Noct comes, it’s with his lungs burning and tears of pleasure stinging his eyes.

* * *

_**and after** _

_**I'd wipe away the tears**_

 

“Noct. Noctis, stop.” Ignis’ voice is hardly a whisper, a strained breath in the darkness of the hotel room. On the other bed, he can make out the shapes of Gladio and Prompto beneath a thick layer of blankets. Asleep, though how deeply he can’t say.

Nevertheless, Noct remains insistent. The prince’s hand slides further up between his thighs, warm and purposeful - a sharp contrast to his voice when at last he speaks.

“Specs…. _Please.”_

There’s emotion there, but not the kind Ignis is used to. Not the playful, even mischievous tone with which Noct usually wins him over. No, this night there’s an unmistakable hint of desperation, of pain and emptiness and Ignis would be lying if he said he doesn’t understand.

They’ve lost their homes. All of them, in one fell swoop of the Empire. So many people are dead - the _king_ is dead - and they’ve only survived because Regis had the foresight to send them away.

But they’ve sworn to themselves they wouldn’t do this. Noct is meant to be wed, promised in a political arrangement to Lady Lunafreya, despite what the radio keeps saying about her. Despite their friends sleeping beside them, despite how he and Noct both feel deep in their hearts. And despite the way the kingdom seems to be crumbling to dust at their backs. They won’t - _can’t_ \- give in anymore.

Empty promises don’t mean much to Noctis, though. In the absence of further protests, he makes his move. Draws his hand up to the heat building in Ignis’ groin, and squeezes. Curls his fingers around the flesh there and strokes him, even through his briefs, to a satisfying hardness.

Ignis doesn’t have the heart to stop him. In his mind, he knows this is wrong. Knows that they’ll only suffer heartbreak again for it later. But his body craves Noct’s touch more than he - more than either of them - can stand to bear. So in silence, he guides his prince’s lips up to his and kisses him with all the desperate passion of a man who has nothing else left.

The mattress shifts. The blankets rustle as they’re shoved aside, and then Noct is climbing up onto his lap. Pale thighs, leaner than Ignis remembers, close in on either side of his waist, begging for his touch even as they tremble and shake.

Ignis obliges his prince as he always does, hands moving fast now that he can no longer hold them back. They trail up Noct’s hips, catch on his boxers, tug them down to expose the soft mounds of his ass. Grip him there, pulling him down closer, deeper into the silent kiss.

Things move fast enough then to make both of their heads spin. But maybe that’s the point; maybe this is exactly what both of them need, to get lost in each other while the rest of the world burns. Noct’s fist around Iggy’s cock between them is a perilous constant. The weight of him atop Ignis’ body more real than anything he’s felt in a long time - not since the night they swore this would never happen again.

Between them, the only sounds are low, steady sighs.

Ignis isn’t sure when it happens. Noctis has both of their cocks between his hands now, fingers trembling even as he tugs them roughly toward climax. His tears - hot and silent as the ones burning behind Ignis’ own eyes - fall down his cheeks, his chin, and finally onto the shirt of the body beneath him. Ignis means to wipe them away, he really does. Means to comfort him with hollow words of hope that neither of them want to hear. Yet, while his fingers reach for those pale cheeks, they never quite make it.

Instead, they find the prince’s neck. Soft skin, the curve of that familiar throat. Noct’s heartbeat pounding wildly just below the surface. He isn’t sure why his fingers stall there, but the effect is immediate. Noct sucks in a breath. Blue eyes go wide. Around their cocks, his grip loosens, and his hurried pace slows to a crawl.

“ _Iggy._ ” A hushed whisper in the few inches of space between them.

“Noct, do you--”

“ _Yes_.”

The answer is taken for exactly what it is - an invitation. A _plea_. Though Noct’s tears still fall, there’s a certain relief even in the shadows of his eyes. Ignis watches them closely, entranced, as his fingers find the perfect hold. As they squeeze down around the soft skin of Noct’s throat, and as pleasure blossoms dark red across his face.  

Release. _Escape_.

Fear.

Noctis is utterly silent when he comes. His body shudders atop Ignis’ hips, and his cock erupts hot and desperate between them both. But while his mouth falls open as if to cry out, his breath belongs to Ignis and Ignis alone.

* * *

_**...just close your eyes, dear**_  

 

"Your Majesty…."

Ignis’ voice echoes in the vast space of the Citadel’s throne room, empty save for himself and Insomnia’s True King. Noctis sits, regal and beautiful as ever, atop the throne once occupied by his father, and by his father before him. He’s the perfect image of Eos’ savior, dressed in somber black and yet with a smile as gentle and warm as a summer breeze.

But while Noctis is always a breathtaking sight to behold, that isn’t what’s brought Ignis to his knees this day. No, it’s what Noctis is holding in his hand - or, rather, dangling temptingly from his forefinger - that has stolen the show.

“Highness, is that…?”

Still smiling, Noct gets to his feet. Gestures with the hand not holding the band of black leather for Ignis to join him atop the steps, and speaks into the empty space. “I’ve thought about this for a long time, Igs. I hoped...you’d do me honor.”

“ _Noctis_ .” The reprimand comes naturally. After all, this is hardly proper etiquette. For all the things Noct is to him, first and foremost he must be his _king_. And that means - as hard as it sometimes is - maintaining decorum in the public eye.

Although…. As Ignis reaches the top of the dias he risks a glance around. The throne room is empty, of course, and silent save for the two of them. Even the shadows of the guards on the other side of the entrance are no longer visible; Noct’s evidently planned it this way. _No one watching, no one listening_.

Ignis smiles. Noct has gotten much better at plotting his traps.

“Relax, already. We’re alone,” his king confirms, lips curving into a smirk as Ignis comes to a stop before him. “Just you, me, and the rest of the night. So, what do you say?”

“I say,” Ignis chuckles, drawing one hand up the length of his king’s arm to come to rest on his shoulder. “That is has been, and always will be, a _pleasure_ to serve you.”

Noct is still holding the open collar between his fingers, smooth black leather that catches the light and tempts Ignis’ gaze. He follows it with his eyes as his king lifts it up, supple and beautiful between them, and smiles. “If you would be so kind as to turn around, Your Majesty?”

The smirks that’s been playing on Noct’s lips grows bolder. He turns, and in doing so none-too-subtly brushes the fabric of his robes against the front of Ignis’ uniform. “The tighter the better. You know how I like it.”

_I certainly do,_ comes the silent answer, and a smirk of Ignis’ own. Noctis draws up the hair that has grown over the nape of his neck, and the soft skin revealed underneath is a sweet sight indeed. One that Ignis can no longer resist as he leans forward, presses himself nearly to Noct’s back, and slides the collar into place at the base of his throat.

The king inhales a breath. Close as Ignis is, he can see the prickles of pleasure rippling across his flesh as the leather caresses him. Noct’s back stiffens, and his advisor takes the opportunity to lean forward into him.

“Is there anything else Your Majesty requests?”

The lilt of his voice is punctuated by the collar’s fastener _clicking_ shut. A swift tug, almost imperceptible, leaves Noct melting back against him, deep blue eyes already heavy and dark. “Sit with me on the throne.”

Ignis kisses the smooth edge of his jaw. “I believe your ancestors might take offense to anyone’s bottom in their chair but yours, Noctis.”

“That’s fine. ‘Cause I meant I want you to ride me.”

Before Ignis can finish processing his surprise, Noct is kissing him. Hard, fast, not unlike the days when they were young and running out of time. They have time now, all the time in the world, but the hunger is the same. Unfaltering with the years, just like their love.

One hand on Noct’s hip, the other hooked around black leather, Ignis allows his king to guide them both back across the dias. Down into the stone seat of the Lucian throne, where hasty fingers tug at clothing. From out of his robes, Noct produces a small, crystal vial, and Ignis can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Still, to feel those slick, familiar fingers teasing him open again, to be able to lose his breath to Noctis’ perfect mouth, he feels so... _alive_.

There are most certainly rules about the proper treatment of Crownsguard-issue uniforms, but his ends up strewn carelessly across the steps anyway. Noct’s robes, too, are shucked off or pushed aside, and with a sigh of contentment Ignis lowers himself fully into his king’s waiting lap. Weight and heat fill him, powerful, inch by inch, but he’s forgotten how to take things slow. Beneath him, the king’s eyes haze over.

The same pleasure courses through them both. Ignis can feel it, can _taste_ it with every beat of their hearts between them. Gradually, the chamber is filled with the sounds of their sex, echoing off the ancient walls and fueling their pace. Faster, _faster_ , hips rising and falling in powerful waves as Ignis rides his king atop the ancient throne. It’s thrilling, it’s _breathtaking-_ and yet he knows Noctis can handle so much more.

His fingers are tangled in the back of thick, black locks. Slowly, kiss never breaking, Ignis slides them down, over the skin of Noct’s nape to the band of the collar fastened there. He doesn’t even bother to give warning; merely grips the leather and feels it strain in protest at the stretch. Feels Noct’s breath catch, his eyes fly open, and then the hands on his waist are pulling away.

The King of Eos is perfect like this, Ignis thinks. Vulnerable, yet strong. Submissive, yet regal. Gazing up breathless from below, lips parted in a silent moan as his orgasm tears suddenly through him. He grips Ignis tight and allows his body to take control, spills over into slick heat as the room around him spins. And through it all, Ignis’ own breath is stilled with the magnificence of it.

There’s no hurry to finish the rest. Noct gasps and shudders as Ignis releases the collar, watches him move through half-lidded eyes. In his own lap, Ignis’ cock is swollen, throbbing, but he takes his time to stroke its length. Enjoys the feeling of his king still thick and hot inside him, and lets his head fall forward against Noct’s chest.

“Your Majesty,” he whispers, voice strained with pleasure and need. “I love you always.”

“ _Always, Iggy_ ,” Noctis replies, and smiles as the body above him squeezes tight.


End file.
